Shadowed Past II: Fall From Grace
by Sylver-Star189
Summary: Kalan is hurt in more than just body. Will he be able to go on and help his friends? WARNING: nongraphic rape, hurtcomfort. DISCONTINUED until further notice
1. In Dark Hands: Sacrifice

Chapter 1

In Dark Hands: Sacrifice 

****

            Once more the orcs stopped for the night, when the hobbits could go not farther.  Placing their captives in a corner, they gathered amongst themselves.  Kalan still had his legs and hands bound and he shifted, trying to get somewhat comfortable.  Merry grumbled.

            "We get to run all day and half into the night while you get a free ride.  Hmph!  How does that figure?" Kalan gave him a smile, trying to keep the mood light.

            "They are worried that I would run too fast and get away," he paused, "and don't you even dare to think that it is comfortable, bouncing up and down on their shoulders," he gave a slight chuckle.  

            For the past three days he had tried to keep the hobbits' mood light, trying to distract them from their current situation.  Pippin giggled, slightly, then looked out at their captors.  Tonight there was something different in the air.  The orcs were much more grumpy, growling and fighting amongst each other.  Speaking in their guttural tongue, they couldn't understand.  Some looked over at them, eyeing the three captives, strangely.  A small group had gathered, growling and snarling to each other.

            Kalan listened; he understood what the orcs were saying, though he never told the halflings, not wanting the little ones to know what was said. He tensed when one pointed over at them, 'Oh no…' he had feared this moment would come.  Two orcs were pushed by their fellows and came over to them.  Merry and Pippin huddled together, fearing what would be done to them.  'If only they knew…' Kalan thought.  One of the orcs pointed down at them.

            "You three will be used, troops need release," he said.  Kalan spoke up before anything else could happen.

            "No!  Not them, they were to be taken alive and unspoiled, those were your orders," he paused, watching the creatures.  "Besides, they are too small, you'd break them," he said.  The orcs thought for a second.

            "Then just you will serve," he said with a sneer and grabbed Kalan by his shirt, dragging him along.  Kalan looked back at the hobbits, they looked frightened and confused.  'They have no idea…'

            Two orcs held him while they untied his legs.  Kalan didn't fight them, because if he did, he knew they would move on to the little ones.  He was thrown bodily over a rock, face down, his arms were stretched out in front of him and tied to a tree root.  He legs were spread apart, after his trousers were pulled down to his ankles, leaving him open and vulnerable.  His ankles were tried, holding him in this position.  

            Merry and Pippin watched, horrifies at what was going on.  Suddenly, a voice came into their minds: Kalan's voice.  ~Don't look, my friends, turn away.  You don't need to see this.~ Merry and Pippin hurriedly looked away, just as one orc positioned himself behind Kalan's helpless body.  The hobbits squenched their eyes closed.

            But they could not block out the sounds of the grunting orcs, jeers and howls of their fellows.  Their mind's eye saw everything; saw as their friend was violated over and over again.  They saw him bite his lip in order to not cry out in pain, his silver eyes filled with anguish but would not shed a tear for the orc's pleasure.  There was also a strange look of satisfaction in them, for he knew he saved his little friends from this torment. 

*

            A while later, it could have been hours, or days, Merry and Pippin heard an approaching orc.  The low, rhythmic grunts had ceased and they tentatively opened their eyes.  Something was dropped, unceremoniously beside them and the orc left.  The quivering form curled itself into a ball, small, painful whimpers coming from the lips.  Merry quickly shifted over to Kalan, 'At least they covered him again,' he thought, seeing Kalan's pants back in place.  He reached out with his bound hands, gently touching Kalan's shoulder.  Kalan jerked, as if in pain, trying to get away, but his bound hands and feet prevented that.

            "Kalan?  Its alright, its me, Merry," said the hobbit in a quiet voice, hoping to sound soothing.  Kalan slowly, painfully uncurled from his fetal position to look up at the hobbit.  Pippin now joined his cousin, trying to hide the fact that he'd been crying.

            "Mm-Merry?" a small, childlike voice said, quivering.  The frightened, pain filled silver eyes met his own and it took everything the hobbit had not to cry at the plaintive look.  He swallowed and nodded.

            "Yes, Kalan, its me," he said and relief flashed in Kalan's eyes.  He slowly turned onto his back, sitting up slightly against a log.  His body still quivered and he moved painfully, but that was nothing compared to the torment Merry saw in his friend's eyes.  Merry knelt beside him, gently using his own sleeve to wipe away the traces of tears and dirt from Kalan's face.  "Why, Kalan?  Why'd you let them do that to you?" he asked.  Kalan met his gaze. 

            "Because, they would have done that to you, and," he choked, "I couldn't bear that," he whispered.

            "And you think we could?  Knowing what they were doing to you?" asked Merry.  Pippin sat on Kalan's other side, trying to be a comforting presence.  Kalan shook his head, slightly, his damp hair falling into his eyes.

            "I had to, Merry, Pip.  I couldn't let that happen to you, not to you.  Its not the first time…" his voice trailed off.  His body convulsed as images, and painful memories came rushing back at him, his eyes closed tightly.  "Merry…" he sobbed.  The hobbit quickly drew Kalan's head to rest on his shoulder, stroking the soft black hair.

            "Hush, Kalan.  Its alright now, I'm here, I'm here," he murmured.  Kalan sobbed quietly into Merry's vest, his entire body shaking.  It was hard to hold his quivering friends with his bound hands, but Merry did the best he could.  Pippin shifted to press his body against Kalan's, trying to offer some comfort.  Kalan's sobs quieted, but he still shook uncontrollably.

            Kalan noticed the position he was in, nestled against Merry's shoulder.  'What's wrong with this picture?" he thought.  Merry spoke softly, as if he was reading his mind.

            "You should rest, Kalan," he said.  Kalan tried to shake his head, protesting.

            "No, I'm supposed to be protecting **you**: the strong one…" his voice shook and he tried to get himself under control.  'They need me.'  Merry shook his own head.

            "No, Kalan, not this time.  You've been hurt, it's our turn to protect you," he shifted Kalan's head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder.  At these words, Kalan's attempt to control himself proved in vain.  He shuddered and collapsed against Merry.

            All the hobbit could do was hold his shaking, sobbing friend, rocking gently, like his own mother used to after a particularly bad nightmare.  He looked over at his cousin and caught his gaze.  Both knew why Kalan did it, and both were horrified at what had happened to their friend.  They hoped this would be the only time, but there was no way of telling.

            Merry held the distraught half-dragon as he shook like a leaf.  The wracking sobs poured from him, muffled by his vest and cloak.  Merry just settled back and tried to give as much comfort and protection as his own small body could offer.


	2. Escape: Left Behind

Chapter 2

Escape: Left Behind 

****

            As another day passed, and the orcs had not touched either Kalan or the hobbits again.  Each day they were getting closer and closer to Isenguard, and Sarumon.  As the orcs made camp for the night once more, the prisoners were left to their own company.  

            "Kalan, are you feeling better?" asked Pippin.  Kalan turned to the hobbit and gave him a wan smile.  Both of the halflings had been so close to Kalan after….IT happened.  Kalan nodded, wanting to reassure the young hobbit.

            "Yes, Pip.  I'm doing better.  You should rest though, you and Merry had a long day," he said.  The hobbit nodded and settled back against a log.  Neither of them slept, however; they were too afraid, Kalan couldn't blame them.  

            They settled in for the short break, taking their rest as it came.  They were interrupted when Kalan's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of horse hooves, coming their way.  His silver gaze pierced the foggy night, and saw hundreds of horsemen, coming over the hill toward the group of orcs.  The orcs saw them as well, and panicked.  

            The creatures grabbed their weapons, preparing to fight off the newcomers.  But the men were many more than the small band of orcs.  Kalan signaled for the hobbits to scoot away, while there was confusion.  One orc, named Grishnak by his fellows, broke off from the group, coming over to them.  It started feeling around in the halfling's clothes.  

            ~It thinks you have the Ring!~ Kalan called to them with his mind.  Merry nodded, turning to the orc.

            "You wont find my precious, nothing for poor Grishnak, gollum," he said, his eyes wide and crazed.  Pippin caught on.

            "No, it's hidden, my precious, gollum…" Kalan was able to get up behind Grishnak, while he was distracted by the hobbits.  Getting frustrated, Grishnak lifted an arm, holding a knife, to kill the hobbits.  Kalan screamed in rage and threw himself bodily against the orc.  He encircled its neck with his bound hands, pulling with all of his might.  The creature struggled and fought, clawing at Kalan's arms.

            "Merry! The knife!  Cut your ropes!" Kalan called.  Merry used Grishnak's fallen knife to free both him and his cousin.  The battle was all around them now, the men pushing the orcs back.  Grishnak now went limp, and Kalan gave his arms one last brutal tug before releasing him.  Suddenly, he was crushed under a weight, a fallen orc.  He struggled to free himself, but he strength was gone.  He caught sight of Merry and Pippin.

            "GO!" he cried.  Merry looked shocked and shook his head.  "Damn it, Merry!  Your promise!!  GO!  Now!!" Kalan cried out in desperation.  Merry hesitated, and then nodded, pulling Pippin along with him. 

            ~Get to the forest; you'll be safe there.  Good luck, my friends. ~ And Kalan's voice faded.  Merry and Pippin ran blindly, and did not stop until the sounds of the battle had long faded from their hearing.  Only then, were the tears shed.

*

            The men had gone, the orcs who had fled were returning for spoils.  Kalan breathed heavily under the dead orc.  His hands and feet were still bound tightly, even if he were free, Kalan knew that he did not have the strength to move.  There was a growl to his left.

            "The halflings are gone!  You are a fool, Ugluk!"  One of the orcs cried.  Kalan smirked with satisfaction: the hobbits were safe.  Something grabbed his hair, pulling his head up at a painful angle.

            "Well, this one is still here," said Ugluk in his guttural tongue.  "At least we are not without something to show Sarumon," he grinned and slammed Kalan's head down into the ground.  Stars burst before his eyes, and Kalan's world darkened.  "And perhaps we'll have a bit more fun before we get there," the orcs laughed, and Kalan was hauled up and slung over a shoulder.  As light faded from his vision, Kalan thought vaguely if he would survive this trial, or will this be the last sacrifice for his friends.


	3. Fall into Darkness: Light Snuffed Out

Chapter 3

Fall Into Darkness: Light Snuffed Out 

****

            Kalan awoke slowly, his body aching all over; bruises marred his face, chest and thighs.  It was light around, an airy feel.  He was in a large bed…somewhat familiar.  He blinked his eyes open and looked at his surroundings, he recognized them immediately.  He was in Rivendell, the light elven city, and his home of sorts.  Something moved to his left and he turned.

            "Elrond…" he breathed.  The elf lord nodded and smiled.  He walked over to stand beside the bed, looking down at his young friend.  

            "How do you feel, young Kalan?" he asked, in that deep, melodic voice that never failed to soothe.  

            "Sore, but that's all," Kalan answered, then, "How did I get here?" he asked.

            "My scouts found you with the orcs.  They killed the creatures and brought you here.  You have been unconscious for a long time, my friend," the elf said, with a serious look.  Then he leaned down into Kalan looking directly into his eyes.  "Kalan, where is the Ring?" he asked.

            Kalan blinked, confused.  Why would Elrond ask him this?  Something was wrong, something was different.  A cold chill came over Kalan's body and he looked around once more.  The smell!  It was not the normal, natural smell of Imladris, of trees and earth.  There were no birds singing in the tall trees, nor the sound of the small waterfalls.  

            "This is not Rivendell!" he cried.  But before he could move, a black chain wrapped around each wrist and pulled his arms above his head, stretching them to capacity.  Two more caught his ankles, but pulled his legs back, bending his knees and spreading them apart.  "Mani?!" 1 

            The scenery changed, the light left and he was surrounded in a dark gloom.  Black walls, no windows.  Through his sharp eyes he could see strange and horrible implements lined up against the walls.  No longer was he lying in a bed, but upon a stone table, the grain biting into his back.  It was then that Kalan noticed that he was naked and exposed.

            Now the image of Elrond shifted and changed.  The dark hair was replaced by white, and the soft, kind gray eyes were now sharp, cruel and brown.  A long white beard and white robe.  "Sarumon, utinu en lokirim!"2 Kalan breathed.  The fallen wizard smirked and approached the prone and struggling form on the table.  

            "Yes, it is I.  You are sharper than I thought, Kalan Sadaya, I thought it would take you longer to see through my illusion," he mocked.  Kalan snorted and glared up at the wizard.  

            "With a cheap trick like that, it was not all that hard," now it was Kalan's turn to smirk.  "Don't give yourself too much credit, Sarumon."  The wizard struck him a glancing blow with his staff across his head.  The world spun and there was a ringing in Kalan's ears.  

            "You will tell me where the Ring is!" commanded Sarumon.

            "Auta miqula orqu!"3 Kalan replied.  "I've been tortured before, and I am very good at taking pain," he spat into the wizard's face.  Sarumon calmly wiped his face and looked down at the young half-dragon.  He sneered and ran a finger down Kalan's neck and chest.  

            "There are many ways to torture, my beautiful dragon," he whispered and looked over into the darkness.  Kalan followed his gaze and saw many orcs, nearly hundreds, waiting there, growling and snarling amongst themselves.  Kalan remembered what he had endured at the hands of the orcs and shuddered involuntarily.  Sarumon noticed and returned his gaze to his captive.  "There are many orcs here.  In a few days you will be more than willing to tell me the whereabouts of the Ring," he said and hit Kalan again, dazing the youth.  Kalan heard Sarumon talking to the creatures.  "Have your fill, do what you want, but make sure he lives," and the wizard left.

            Kalan was dazed and didn't realize what was happening.  The orcs gathered around his prone form.  One undid his leather breechcloth, grinning and drooling he positioned himself over Kalan.  Then he brutally thrust forward into Kalan's body, Kalan gasped and his body jerked as the creature violated him.  The growls of the others and the grunts of the one above him filled his ears.  Kalan's eyes rolled back into his head, trying to ignore the pain.  

            "Peredhil…"4 he whispered, calling out to his savior, but no one came.

*

            Far away in Imladris, Lord Elrond stood in brooding silence on his balcony.  Suddenly, a wave of pain, fear, desperation and helplessness hit his mind and heart, causing him to stager.  'Peredhil…' a whisper of a familiar voice echoed in his heart, tears choking the voice.  Elrond was forced to sit on a nearby bench, holding his chest as pain enveloped his heart.  He suddenly knew where it was coming from, or rather, who.  The elf hung his head, tears welling up in his eyes.  "Ai, melamin!"5 he whispered in a husky voice.  It was in this way that his children found him.

*

            Days, it must have been days, but Kalan couldn't tell for sure.  No light came in and the hours were filled with the same grinding pain of the orc's torture as each raped him.  There seemed to be no end to them, perhaps they were the same one, Kalan didn't know, nor did he care to.  At one time the torment stopped, for a while and Sarumon appeared before him.

            "Tell me," he ordered, Kalan didn't have to ask what.  Through dry, cracked lips he spoke, his throat parched, he world delirious.  They gave him no rest and no water, but he would not let them see his pain, not yet anyway.

            "You'll never find it," he wheezed, "The Ring is beyond your reach."  Kalan began to laugh, almost insanely: his sanity was cracking, "You'll never find it!"  Sarumon growled and turned away, and once more the orcs filled Kalan's vision…and more.

  


* * *

1 What?!

2 Son of snakes (a dishonest person)

3 Go kiss an orc!

4 Peredhil – Half-Elven: applied to Elrond

5 Oh, my love!


	4. Out of Darkness: The Rescue

Chapter 4

Out of the Darkness: The Rescue 

****

            Where were the orcs, none had come in quite some time.  Kalan's fever filled mind faintly registered the sounds of a battle outside.  His body ached and he tried to move slightly.  It sent a searing pain through his whole body, he groaned, falling into oblivion.

*

            When he awoke, one again there were no orcs, the sounds of fighting had faded to almost nothing.  'I wonder what is going on,' he thought.

            "Sarumon…high tower…." A voice faintly echoed to him.

            "…. would be…dungeons…" another voice.  Who were they?  Not orcs, that's for sure.  They were getting closer, footsteps could be heard now.  

            "Check everywhere, he must be here somewhere," said the first voice.

            "This one is locked,"

            "Stand back," a crash, then another against the door.  'What's happening?'  Another crash and the door burst its hinges.  'Who's here?'  Kalan feared to open his eyes, lest the leering faces of the orcs appear again.  

            "Aragorn!"  'Aragorn?  Don't I know him?' he heard footsteps approach.  "Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!"1 and a hand touched his arm.  Kalan jerked and tried to get away from the hand, fearing the pain it would cause.  His bonds allowed very little movement and movement caused pain.  He whimpered.

            "Please, no more.  Don't hurt me anymore," he whispered, trying to plead, though he knew the orcs would not care.  

            "Kalan?  Aragorn, what is wrong with him?" a fair voice, not like the orcs….familiar.  Another hand, this one large and callous gently touched his shoulder, Kalan shook.

            "Kalan, open your eyes.  'Tis I, Aragorn.  We wont hurt you, no one is going to hurt you anymore," a rough voice, though not orcish.  Kalan slowly opened his eyes; they were swollen from lack of sleep and tears.  Yes, tears.  Kalan had broken down two days ago, the pain and torment of violation too much for the young half-dragon.  

            Above him were two worried faces, one with the starting of a black beard and black hair.  The other was clean-shaven and had light, longer blonde hair.  Some recognition flickered in his dull silver eyes.  He looked to the first man.  "Aragorn?" his small voice cracked.  The man nodded with a sigh.  Then noticing Kalan's nakedness tore off his cloak and draped it over the quivering body, but not before he noticed the traces of old blood staining the table between Kalan's legs.  

            Kalan's eyes moved over to the other…. an elf, by the ears.  'I know him too," "Legolas?" the blonde nodded, and smiling wanly.  Aragorn looked over to the wall and took something hanging there.  He unlocked the chains that bound Kalan's hands, taking note of the old blood and redness on his wrists.  Gently, he laid the arms down alongside his body.  They began to tingle and pain as feeling flowed back into the limbs.  Kalan gritted his teeth, tears seeping out through closed lids.  The past days of torture had broken his resolve.

            Aragorn next unlocked his ankles and laid his stiff legs flat, also noting the long bloody furrows along his thighs, mostly healed over.  To Aragorn it looked like fingernails did them.  He filed the information away in his mind.  Kalan's shaky voice came to them, barely audible and sounding nothing like the strong warrior they had once known.

            "How do I know…you're not some trick of Sarumon?  How do I know that…. you're real?" he whispered.  Something caught in Aragorn's throat and he could not answer.  'What did they do to, mellonamin?'2 he thought.  Legolas, however, took one of Kalan's limp, shaking hands between his own.  The elf crouched down and brought that hand to his lips, then to his cheek.

            "Is that real enough for you?" he asked softly, his kind gray-green eyes gazing gently and calmly into the silver ones.  Kalan shuddered once more and closed his eyes, a few tears of relief fell from them.  He felt the elf rub his skin and then whisper to Aragorn.  "He is terribly dehydrated, Aragorn.  They probably didn't give him any water at all," he said.  The man took his canteen from his pack.  Moving around the elf to Kalan's head, he lifted him slightly.  He brought the canteen to Kalan's dry and cracked lips and the water ran into his mouth and down his throat.  At first Kalan choked and coughed, but then drank greedily.  

            "Slowly, Kalan.  Take it slow," the Ranger whispered.  He pulled the canteen away after a while, not wanting Kalan too get sick from too much water.  Kalan grasped his arm in a strong grip, surprising Aragorn.  

            "Aragorn, where is Frodo…. then Ring?" he asked in a feverish voice, then his grip slackened.

            "They are both far from here, Sarumon will never get the Ring," the man reassured him.  Kalan's hand fell back down and he closed his eyes.

            "Good, then it has not been in vain," he whispered, more to himself than to the others, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.  Aragorn patted his hand.

            "Now, we are getting you out of here," he said and gathered the cloak more securely around Kalan's body before picking up his trembling friend, cradling him in his arms. 

            Kalan cried out in pain as he was moved, his sore and abused body protesting.  The world darkened again as pain enveloped his mind.  His head lolled onto Aragorn's shoulder as the man walked out of the dark room.  The elf walked beside them his sharp eyes watching the shadows, guarding them.  He was safe.

            "Please, Aragorn," he whispered, the man looked down at him, the silver eyes frightened and pleading and clouded with fever, "please don't let them hurt me anymore," and then the eyes closed in exhaustion.  Aragorn held him tighter.

            "I swear, Kalan, no one will ever hurt you again," he said vehemently as they made their way out of Orthanc.

            Outside the black tower, Gandalf, returned from the supposed dead and now dressed in white, waited with Gimli, Merry and Pippin.  Aragorn appeared, carrying something wrapped in his cloak.  Beside him strode Legolas.  The hobbits leapt to their feet and ran to them, followed closely by the dwarf and wizard.

            "Aragorn!  Did you find him?" asked Merry, anxiety creeping into his voice.  The man did not stop, however.  

            "He is worse than we thought, Gandalf.  I must get him to where he can rest and heal," he said.  The wizard nodded.

            "Then we shall go to the camp of Theoden King," he said and the group found their horses.  Gandalf sat upon Shadowfax with the hobbits, Legolas with Gimli, and Aragorn sat behind Kalan on his own steed.  The youth moan in pain as he was set upon the horse, but Aragorn whispered something to him in elvish and he quieted.  Merry looked back at Kalan and gasped when he saw his face.

            Kalan's skin was pale, his features drawn, pained and exhausted.  His black hair was unkempt and damp; a large bruise marred the left side of his head.  The hobbit looked away, upset and feeling guilty for what had happened to his friend.  

            "Its not your fault, Merriadoc.  He told you and Peregrin to go, he knew what he would face ahead," said Gandalf behind him.  The hobbit said nothing in return.  

**Hey, look!! Kalan's alive, I didn't kill him!!  REVIEW ME!!!!!!  Give me your opinions of my story.  Flame me if you want, they will be used to toast marshmallows!**

  


* * *

1 By the Sea and Stars!

2 mellonamin = my friend


	5. Return to Camp: Darkness Revealed

Chapter 5

Return to Camp: Darkness Revealed 

****

            Upon reaching the camp of Rohan's army, King Theoden met them.  Everything was explained, the hobbits were introduced, and how and where they had found Kalan.  

            "He needs a quiet, enclosed place to rest," said Aragorn.  The old king nodded.  

            "Use my tent, it has more comfort than others," he offered and Aragorn nodded his thanks.  As gently as he could, he took Kalan off the horse and into his arms.  The youth cried out softly in pain, it made Merry and Pippin wince.  As they took Kalan to the king's tent, he did not open his eyes.  

            Aragorn laid his burden down on the lush pallet in Theoden's tent.  Legolas took a position at Kalan's head, the blonde elf stroking the dark hair, trying to soothe the boy who moaned and murmured strange and horrible things in elvish.  Legolas caught Aragorn's eye, both understanding what Kalan said: he told of the torture he experienced at the hands of the orcs.  

            The man heated some water over a small brazier, then turned back to Kalan and unwrapped his cloak from around the smaller frame, but was mindful to keep him modestly covered.  He checked for other wounds, anything other than the bruise and cuts on his thighs.  Gently, the Ranger's fingers went between Kalan's legs.  Kalan went rigid as Aragorn's fingers slowly explored and examined his opening.  Kalan cried out as he was touched and tried to get away.  Legolas held him still and Aragorn removed his hand.  He looked at his fingered, his face becoming dark.  His fingers were coated with Kalan's blood, which only slightly burned his skin…a bad sign.  But there was also a black, sticky substance with the blood.  Aragorn growled and wiped his hand on a towel.  Merry watched all of this with wide, concerned eyes.  

            "What's wrong with him, Aragorn?  I don't see many hurts on him," said the hobbit.  Aragorn stood and faced the halfling.  

            "If my suspicions are correct, the orcs hurt him worse than what we can readily see," he said softly, and caught Gandalf's eye.  At the mention of orcs, Kalan let out a small whimper.

            "Saes, tampa!  Tampa ta, saes…tampa…"1 Kalan whispered and his head tossed in the throes of a nightmare, or memory…or both.  Legolas leaned down to whisper to Kalan in soft, fluid elvish.  

            "Gildae, tell me what they did to you," he asked.  Kalan responded to his elven name, and answered in the same tongue.  

            "They wanted the Ring, hurting me, I feel dirty.  There was no end to them, no end, always more pain; they enjoyed it, taking me, my tears.  They wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop," tears slipped down his cheeks and he whispered.  "They raped me."

            Legolas flinched, his gray-green eyes flashing in anger.  How dare those foul creatures do this to his friend!  This beautiful being, torn apart and broken by unending pain and violation.  They will pay, oh, they will pay dearly.

            Kalan clutched at the blankets.  "There was no end, they just kept coming, didn't stop, didn't stop," he added in a whisper, crying slightly.  Legolas tried to comfort him, talking to him in elvish and smoothing the ebony waves.  Aragorn clenched his fists, anger spreading over his normally calm features.  

            "So I was right," he said, mostly to himself.  Pippin stepped forward, and tugged on the Ranger's tunic.

            "Aragorn?  What is it?  What did they do to him?" the young hobbit asked.  The man looked down at him sympathetically.  

            "They raped him, Pippin, over and over again.  How long was he there?" he asked.  Merry answered.

            "We escaped from the orcs about six to seven days ago.  They were still about a day's journey from Isenguard," he said.  

            "So, at least five days.  Five days they tortured and violated him, it is amazing that he is still alive," Aragorn looked back at the trembling Kalan.  Merry began to weep, as did Pippin.

            "This is our fault, we left him behind," said Merry through his tears.  "If we had been there…" he couldn't say anymore.  Kalan stirred at the sound of Merry's voice and crying.  He slowly opened his eyes, looking over at the two hobbits.

            "Merry, Pip," he whispered.  The two hobbits rushed to Kalan's side.  Kalan raised a shaking hand and wiped the tears from the little faces.  "I'm glad to see that you are alright.  Don't blame yourselves; it's not your fault.  You couldn't have done anything, had you been there.  They would have only tortured you, too, to find the Ring."  A small flicker of the old Kalan flashed in the silver eyes.  "If I saved you from that, it was worth it," then the pain and fever took him again and he closed his eyes, shaking.  He slipped back into his memories of torment, clutching desperately at the blankets.  Aragorn turned to Gimli, who waited in brooding silence at the entrance.

            "Gimli, take the hobbits out of here, get them some food and sleep," he said.  The dwarf nodded and moved to the halflings.

            "No!  I want to stay here, with Kalan!" cried Merry, tears once again in his eyes, his little fists clenched.  Aragorn knelt before him.

            "Merry, Kalan would not want you to see him like this," he said softly.  Pippin took his cousin's arm.

            "C'mon, Merry.  We can't help him now, not yet," said the younger hobbit.  Merry dropped his gaze and nodded.  He allowed himself to be led out by Gimli and Pippin.  When they had gone, Aragorn stood and walked over to the now boiling water.

            "He needs a healer, Aragorn," said the elf, he nodded.  Gandalf spoke up.

            "I shall go and find one," said the wizard.  Kalan roused, startling Legolas who still held him.

            "No!  Please no one else," he cried out, sanity returning briefly to his eyes, but he weakened once more.  "No one else, Aragorn, I cannot bear another's touch, not a stranger," he said.  Legolas soothed him once more.  Aragorn nodded.

            "Alright, I am no healer, but I know of herbs that will break the fever and give you more strength.  I shall return in the hour," and he stepped outside, followed by Gandalf.

            "You know he needs other healing, Elessar2," said the wizard solemnly.  Aragorn sighed.

            "Yes, 'tis his soul that bears the worse wound.  He can barely stand **our** touch!" his face contorted in anger and frustration.  "Five days, five days, Gandalf of their continuous torment.  They did not stop, you know that," he turned to the wizard.  "As soon as he is well enough, I shall send him to Rivendell.  Lord Elrond healed him before, and if his heart has not been completely destroyed, perhaps he can do so again.  Only Elrond has the power to help him with this."  Gandalf nodded.

            "I will return to Orthanc, Sarumon and I have some unfinished business.  He cannot hurt me anymore," he said.

            "I will find the herbs and return here," said Aragorn.  They clasped hands and parted.  

  


* * *

1 Please, stop!  Stop it, please…. stop…

2 Elessar = Aragorn's other name (one of many…)


	6. Showing the Way: Legolas Lends his Light

Chapter 6

Showing the Way: Legolas lends his Light 

****

                        Back inside the tent, Legolas sat with Kalan, trying to soothe the tremors that shook his friend's body.  The half-dragon had slipped into a fitful, fever-induced sleep.  The elf could tell by the painful murmurs that he was reliving every agonizing moment.  Pleading whispers escaped his lips and tears of pain slip down his cheeks.  Legolas tenderly brushed them away.

            "Uuma dele1, Gildae, you are safe now," he said quietly.  Kalan stirred slightly, turning toward the source of the voice.  

            "Peredhil?" he whispered.  'Half-Elven?  He calls for Elrond,' he thought, surprised.

            "No, Kalan, 'tis Legolas," he answered, softly.  He wished in his mind that the Lord of Imladris was indeed there, for he was a renowned healer, even of hearts.  Kalan whimpered, his fingers clutching at the cloth.  Legolas took the hand in his own, wrapping his bow-strengthened fingers around Kalan's.  The silver eyes opened, staring at the elf.  His breath caught when he saw the pain in the tear-filled gaze.  This was nothing like the young half-dragon he once knew.  'Well, being raped by hundreds of orcs does that to a person,' he thought bitterly.  Kalan squeezed his hand with what little strength he had, as if to reassure himself that the elf was real.  He voice shook when he spoke.

            "They wont stop, Legolas, they wont leave me alone.  I beg and plead for them to stop, for the pain to end, but they wont listen," he paused, clenching his eyes closed, but opened them swiftly once more, fear rising in the silver depths.  "Every time I close my eyes I see them, moving over me, into me.  Grinning and drooling, laughing at my tears and screams.  I can't escape them, Legolas, I still feel their foul claws on my skin, they even tried to kiss me!" his free hand clutched his own chest, nails biting into the skin and blood ran free.  He wrenched his other hand free from the elf's grasp and began to scrape at his skin, as if he could scrape the foul touches from his flesh.  

            As Kalan writhed in pain and emotional anguish on the bed, Legolas was stunned.  But when he saw the bloody furrows Kalan's fingers left behind, he came to.  He grabbed Kalan's wrists in a strong grip, holding them away from his body.

            "Kalan, stop this, you are hurting yourself!" he called to him, but the tormented dragonling was beyond all reason.  He fought against Legolas with a renewed strength and vigor.  Fearing for his friend's well being Legolas slid behind him and held Kalan back against his own chest, pinning his arms to his sides.  He wrapped strong arms around the young dragon, who struggled and cried out.  "Tampa Tanya, Gildae!"2 he said in a strong, but not unkind voice into Kalan's ear.  Kalan did not heed him.

            "N'dengina amin!3  I do not want to live!" he cried, continuing his struggle against his friend's embrace.  This shocked Legolas, but he was not about to give up.

            "Mani?  No, Kalan, no.  Think of Merry and Pippin, and Frodo!  They would be devastated if you were to die.  The world would be become dim without your light shining in it," Kalan began to calm, the soothing words of the elf deftly parting the layers of pain and his ethereal light illuminating the darkness inside of him.  Legolas, seeing that it was working, continued.  "Amin sinta thaliolle e dagor.  Cuamin linduva yassen megrille, ar' lye nuquernuva sen."4  Kalan shook with suppressed emotion but no longer fought against him.  "Do not give up hope, mellonamin, for no matter how dark the world seems, I will always be here to lighten once again," he murmured softly.  Kalan turned his head and looked up at the fair elf, his silver gaze looking very much like a hurt and lost puppy.

            "Lle vesta?"5 he asked quietly.  Legolas smiled down at him.

            "Uma,"6 he answered.  Kalan sighed softly, the tremors in his body lessening.  He leaned back into the elf's embrace, allowing his friend to hold and support him.  Legolas leaned back against the cushions, pulling Kalan with him.  He shifted Kalan's body in his arms until he was resting comfortably against his chest.  

            "Legolas?"

            "Hm?"

            "Amin hiraetha."7  The elf tightened his embrace.

            "You are not at fault, Kalan, none of this is your fault," he answered and planted a friendly kiss on the top of the dark head.  "I will stay with you, if you wish it," he offered.  Kalan nodded slightly.

            "It helps, the pain is not so bad and the darkness in not so choking," he said.  The elf nodded, holding him close, hoping that his inner light (another gift of the elves) would help to banish the darkness that held his friend in thrall.  

            "Then I will remain and keep the darkness and dreams at bay.  I will guard your sleep, none shall harm you while I am here," he felt Kalan relax even farther.  It wasn't long until he felt his breathing even out and slow.  Legolas tilted his head to peer down at the sleeping boy in his arms.  The lines of pain had been mostly smoothed away and he slept peacefully.  

            The tent flap opened not long after, admitting Aragorn.  Upon seeing the figures on the bed he paused.  Legolas gave the Ranger a warm smile.

            "Tis alright, Aragorn.  He sleeps now," he explained, in a hushed voice.  The man nodded and went to the boiling water.

            "It is good, for these herbs need to steep for a few hours before potency," he said with a small smile.  From a small pouch he took a handful of various plants and such.  Crushing them in his hand he dropped them into the water.  He then turned back to Legolas and knelt beside the bad.  He reached out and brushed a few stray locks of hair out of Kalan's face.  

            "He is nearly gone from us, Aragorn," said the elf in his own language.  The man sighed and met the other's gaze.  He answered in the same tongue.  

            "These herbs will ease his pain and lower his fever.  I do not think any of these wounds will kill him."  Legolas shook his head.

            "That is not what I meant.  He has nearly lost all hope, his heart is bleeding and his soul has been torn to shreds.  No herb or medicine exists that can heal those hurts," he paused and his face darkened.  "He wanted to die, Estel," he said, using Aragorn's elvish name: 'Hope'.  "He asked me to kill him.  I fear he has forgotten what love feels like, that there is love in the world, after so long with the orcs.  He knows only pain and being forced into sex," his eyes went back to the sleeping form against him and he brushed a hand tenderly against Kalan's cheek.  Aragorn sighed, forlornly.  

            "I wish I could help him with that, but I know not how to do so," he said.  "When he is well enough, I will send him back to Rivendell, perhaps Elrond can heal him again."  Legolas looked at him, a strange expression on his face.

            "He called out for him earlier," Aragorn looked surprised, "he said 'Peredhil', he might have thought that I was he," said the elf.  Aragorn nodded.

            "Yes it was my foster father that saved him before, those many years ago.  Perhaps, if it is not too late, Elrond can heal his heart again," said the man, Legolas nodded.  "I am going to see to the hobbits, perhaps Gandalf has returned from the Dark Tower," and he stood.

            "I will remain with Kalan, he is still plagued by phantoms of the orc's torture," said the elf.  He and Aragorn clasped hands, mindful not to disturb the sleeping Kalan, then the Dunadan left.

  


* * *

1 Don't worry

2 Stop that, Gildae

3 Kill me!

4 I know your strength in battle.  My bow shall sing with your sword, and we shall defeat them.

5 Do you promise?

6 Yes

7 I'm sorry


	7. Gandalf's Return: Memories

Chapter 7

Gandalf's Return: Memories 

****

            Legolas was roused from his dozing as the tent flap opened.  Gandalf stepped inside and walked silently over to the pair on the bed.  He clasped Legolas' shoulder and smiled.  

            "How is he?" he asked, shifting to lean his staff against the wall and adjust his white robes.  Legolas looked solemnly down at the slumbering half-dragon.  He had only stirred once, but was quickly quieted by Legolas' soft elven singing.  

            "He is sleeping peacefully now," said the elf.  "How are the others?" he asked.  Gandalf shrugged.

            "The hobbits sleep, while Aragorn keeps council with Theoden," he paused.  "They require your presence, Legolas, and I want you to eat something," said the wizard sternly.  Legolas frowned.

            "I said that I would remain with Kalan," he protested.  Gandalf quelled him with a look.  

            "I shall stay with the young one, you need to eat something and then go to Aragorn, he needs your wisdom," he said in a tone that left no room for argument.  Legolas hesitated but then nodded.  The elf rose, slowly as to not wake Kalan, edging out from behind the boy he laid the limp form back against the cushions.  Legolas tucked the blankets up around Kalan's chin.  He stood, looking down at the sleeping face of his friend, a sad expression on his face.  Gandalf placed a hand on the prince's arm, smiling gently.

            "I will keep him safe from his dreams, young Legolas.  Go now," he gave the elf a soft nudge toward the door.  With a backward glance, Legolas left the tent.  With a heavy sigh the wizard turned back to the slumbering dragon.  Kalan had begun to stir, noticing the absence of the elf's comforting light.  He whimpered softly, tossing his head to the side as the darkness began to creep back to his soul.  

            Gandalf sat on the bed beside his young friend; he reached out a hand to caress the dark head.  A power, good and benevolent radiated from the old body of the wizard.  It enveloped the smaller body in a cocoon on comfort and Light.  With his power he reached into Kalan's mind and drew the youngling out of the darkness and into his Light.  

            "Come back to me, my young dragon.  Come back and see the Light that shines for you," he called.  Kalan's eyelids twitched and he opened the silver orbs.  He looked into Gandalf's face for a long while, drinking in the power of Gandalf's Light.  

            "Gandalf, what are you doing?  Where is Legolas?" he asked in a soft voice.  The wizard smiled and pulled back some of his power, hiding it once again inside the old body.  

            "I have sent him to get some food," he answered.  "Kalan, my dear little dragon, how is it that we always find ourselves in this position?" he asked in a gently tone.  Kalan shook his head, and smiled a wry smile, but a smile nonetheless.  Gandalf leaned over him and whispered into his ear.  "I will help you all that I can, but you must trust me, for I will leave soon and shall not be near to help for a long while," he pulled back to look into Kalan's eyes.  "Let me heal you as you remember a better time, when I first met you, little dragon," he said.  The two of them went back in time, to Rivendell when Kalan was still young.

*

(Flashback)

            Elrond was in another of his strange meetings, Glorfindel had returned with news from Mirkwood and the lands beyond.  Walking sullenly through the gardens of Imladris, Kalan kicked his small feet in the dirt.  He was twelve years old, no longer a child that had to be watched and coddled.  He grumbled under his breath, but in his heart he knew that Elrond only wanted to protect him.  At the thought of the tall elf lord, his thoughts turned lighter and he smiled.  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly ran into the two figures walking his way.  

            "Whoa!  Watch where you are going, young Kalan, you nearly bowled the both of us over!" a light voice said, filled with laughter, and someone else chuckled.  Kalan looked up into the smiling faces of the twin son's of Elrond.  Elladan crouched down so he could look into Kalan's silver eyes.  "What has occupied your thoughts so much, hm?" he smiled, like a big brother.  Kalan blushed not wanting to reveal his thoughts about their father.  Elrohir above them grinned.

            "Perhaps a young maid?  Someone beautiful to spend your days with," he ventured.  Kalan looked up at the younger twin and scowled. 

            "No, that's not it," he said in his small, still childlike voice.  How Kalan whished for the rich deep voices of the elves around him.  "I was just thinking…" he trailed off.   Then a thought occurred to him.  "What are you two doing?" he asked, hoping they could go out riding.  Elladan caught the hopeful look and shook his head.

            "We are going out on a hunting party, we shall be gone for more than a month," he said.  "You cannot come with us, Kalan, it is far too dangerous," he said with a sad look.  Kalan looked at the ground, getting angry.

            "I am not a child you know!" he said heatedly, "I could scout for you, find the orcs and tell you where they are," he said, knowing that the twins already knew about his wings like their father and sister.  "I could fly high above them and shoot my bow!" he said excitedly.  Elrohir laughed lightly at the hopeful and childlike expression on Kalan's young face.  Elladan chuckled too, but then sobered.  

            "I know you could, Gildae," he said using the name Elrond had given to Kalan upon his arrival in Rivendell, "But you are still young and learning, I have no wish to see you hurt," he said, embracing the young boy in a brotherly hug.  He stood once more.  "Perhaps when you are a bit older and bigger, you can accompany us on our hunts, but until then you should see to your studies and obey Father," he said with an admonishing look. 

            "Speaking of studies, aren't you supposed to be with Erestor learning of the histories?" asked Elrohir with a twinkle in his eyes.  Kalan's face reddened and he looked away sheepishly.  

            "Well…histories are boring!" he said, clenching his small fists.  "I want to learn how to hunt orcs, how to fight and be a warrior like you, brothers," he said.  Kalan had already learned to think of the twins and of Arwen as his siblings, in heart if not in blood.  The elves didn't seem to mind.  

            "We know, Gildae, but even we too had to learn them, it is what makes us wise and helps us not to repeat the same mistakes," said Elladan.  He bent down and ruffled Kalan's dark hair.  "Now go back to Erestor before you give him a gray hair," he said jokingly.  Kalan frowned but said nothing.  He looked back over his shoulder, watching the twins make their way to the stables.  'I just wanna help,' he thought.  Kalan looked up at the tall buildings of Rivendell.  He took notice of a figure peeping into each room, faintly he heard a voice.

            "Gildae?  Where are you, boy?  When I find you…" it was Erestor.  Kalan shook his head, not stupid enough to go back.  He turned and went into the forests.  The young boy walked for a long while until he came to a cliff.  A determined expression came across his face.  'I will be useful.  I'll show them I can be just as good as any elf!' he thought.  He closed his eyes, concentrating, and clenched his fists.  Kalan gritted his teeth so not to cry out.  His silver wings erupted from his back, causing his small body to quiver in pain.  But he forced himself to push the pain aside.  He walked to the edge of the cliff, looking down.  It was a long way down; he could only see the tops of the trees.

            "I will do this, I will show them," he said under his breath.  He spread his wings, closed his eyes and jumped.  The wings caught the breeze and Kalan opened his eyes, seeing he was flying.  Elrond had told him never to use his wings without need, but he **needed** to show them he was good, he could do things.  

            Suddenly, a strong wind came up and Kalan lost balance.  His wings buckled, and he tumbled about on the wind.  The boy screamed as he was pushed back against the cliff.  He hit the hard stone, and slid down, plummeting until he came to rest on a ledge, some ways away from the top.  Kalan groaned, his back and wings were torn up.  Then, unexpectedly his wings folded back and were drawn back into his body.  Kalan screamed again, and huddled into himself.  The wind whipped at his face and body.  His tunic had been ripped along with his breeches.  Elrond would **not **be happy.

            Then it began to rain, things were not looking good for the young half-dragon.  Kalan called out for anyone, but he was too far away from the city for anyone to hear him.  He was quickly drenched and the boy shivered.  'Now what?  I'm stuck out here, Elrond is gonna be so mad at me,' he thought.  Miserable and frightened the boy curled up on the ledge.

            He didn't know how much time had passed since he had gotten stuck, but soon it was dark, and the rain was stopping.  Kalan shivered and hugged his shoulder.  'I'm gonna die out here,' he thought.  In a moment of desperation he called out with his mind, trying to do as Elrond had been teaching him.  He had never been able to do the trick yet, though.  ~Help me!!~  he called.  Feeling scared and close to tears, Kalan huddled farther into himself.  

            Suddenly, there was a sound above him, hooves hitting the dirt and a voice called down to him.

            "Boy?  Are you alright?" Kalan looked up, it was an old man in gray robes and pointed hat.  In a different situation Kalan might have chuckled at the man, but being stuck here he hoped this man would help him.  "Do you need a hand, lad?" called the old man again.  Kalan stood.

            "Yes!" he replied, calling up to the newcomer.  "I'm stuck down here, I can't get back up!" he said.  The old man nodded and then moved away from the ledge.  "Wait!  Come back, please!"  Kalan called out in fear.  He was going to leave him here?  Then the man returned and held something down to him.  It was a wooden staff, maybe six or seven feet in length.  

            "Grasp the end, boy!" called down the old man.  Fearfully, Kalan reached up to the staff, but then withdrew his hand, looking back down at the huge drop.  "Don't worry, my lad, I wont let you fall!" the man called down to him and Kalan nodded.  He felt a tendril of power and Light come to him, a sense of reassurance and safety.  Kalan grasped the wooden staff and held on tightly, as the old man swiftly pulled him to the top of the cliff, with strength that defied his old looks.  

            When Kalan was safely at the top, he collapsed to the ground, shaking with cold and repressed fear.  The old man knelt beside him, wiping his mussed and wet hair out of Kalan's face.  "Where are you from, dear boy?" he asked.  Kalan answered through chattering teeth.

            "Rivendell," he said.  He felt very cold and hugged his arms for warmth.  His savior smiled and wrapped his own gray cloak around the boy's shivering body.  

            "Well, you are in luck, I was just headed there myself when I heard you call out to me with your mind."  This made Kalan start.  

            "With my mind?" he asked in awe.  The old man nodded.

            "Yes, I guess you are one of Elrond's protégés, well, the old elf is probably worried sick about you, so lets get you back, shall we," he said and gathered up the shivering body in his arms.  He mounted his horse, which waited for him patiently, and urged the steed toward the elven city.  Kalan sat, huddled in the old man's cloak, shivering, his wet clothes sticking coldly to his skin.

            "Who are you?" he asked softly, looking up at the old man, the long gray beard tickled his cheeks.  The man looked down at the small boy in his arms and smiled.

            "I am Mithrandir, you can call me Gandalf, though, my lad," he said with a grandfatherly twinkle in his eyes.  "And you must be Kalan Gildae, the one whom Elrond has told me so much about in his letters.  How in Arda did you get stuck on that cliff, my dear boy?" he asked, genuinely concerned and curious, but mostly trying to keep the boy awake, seeing the signs of hypothermia.  

            "Well, I was trying to fly," he said, not really noticing what he was saying, but he felt safe in Gandalf's arms, and so began to tell the old wizard his tale and yearning to be a warrior like the twins.  It was much later when the pair reached Rivendell and Kalan was half asleep, but warmer.  

            Elrond ran out of his House along with Glorfindel, Arwen and Erestor to meet them.  Gandalf dismounted and his horse allowed itself to be led away by a young elf.  Holding the boy close he met the Lord of the Valley, who looked very worried.  When Elrond saw what he was holding he gasped.

            "Kalan!" he rushed forward and took the yawning boy from the wizard, holding him still wrapped in the gray cloak.  "Kalan, where have you been?  We have been looking everywhere for you, I even sent out search parties.  Erestor came to me and said you skipped out of your lesson, then we couldn't find you for hours, by Earendil, boy, you nearly worried me all the way to Mandos!" he said holding the small body close to his chest.  Kalan looked up at the elf lord, through half-closed eyes.

            "I'm sorry, Elrond, I was trying to fly," Elrond's eyes flew wide and he stared down at his young charge in shock.  "I wanted to show you all that I could be useful, as a warrior.  But a huge wind came up and knocked be back against the cliff, then it began to rain and I couldn't climb back up, and my wings and back were torn up, and I was cold and scared and…" at this point Kalan was crying, tears falling silently from his wide silver eyes, his breath hitched.  Elrond felt a lump in his throat.  

            "Aiya, amin ai'galad,"1 and he clasped the smaller body to his own.  They stood there, like that, for long minutes.  Something wet dripped onto Kalan's forehead and he looked up at the elf.  Elrond was crying.

            "Elrond…" Kalan reached up and brushed a tear away with his small hand.  "I didn't mean to make you worry, don't cry," he said.  Elrond smiled at his innocence.  

            "I am just glad that you are alright, Gildae.  I don't know what I would do if you were ever harmed," said the elf.  Elrond held Kalan close and looked up at the wizard.  "Thank you, Mithrandir, how did you ever find him?" he asked.  The wizard smiled.

            "It is him that you should be proud of, if had not called out with his mind, I would have never found him," he said.  Elrond looked surprised, and he looked down at the boy in his arms.  Kalan was swiftly falling asleep, he dark head lolling against the elf's shoulder.

            "His mind?" he whispered.  Klan had never been able to mindspeak before, Elrond has been trying to teach him how, but Kalan had seemed to be resistant.  Maybe this incident had finally opened up his mind.  ~My little dragon, I **am** proud of you. ~  he thought to the sleeping boy.  Kalan smiled in his sleep and snuggled closer.  "Thank you, Mithrandir, you don't know how precious he is to me," said Elrond.  Gandalf smiled.

            "I have an idea, my friend," he replied.  "He is a precious Light, Elrond, I can see what you said about his great potential," said the wizard.  The elf lord nodded.

            "Yes," he said, a wistful expression on his ageless face.  "I am going to put him to bead, but I wish to hear what news you bring," said the elf.  "Erestor, please show Mithrandir to where he will be staying."  The seneschal nodded and bowed to his lord.  Erestor motioned for the wizard to follow him.  Elrond dismissed Glorfindel to escort his daughter back to her rooms, both relieved that the boy had been found.  The Lord of the Valley walked the corridor to Kalan's room and placed the sleeping boy on the bed.  He divested him of his wet and torn clothing and replaced them with a warm sleeping robe.  He then tucked the covers up around Kalan's chin.

            Elrond stood there for a while, just watching the boy sleep, the deep, even breathing.  Watching his chest rise and fall, almost willing the child to keep breathing.  He had been so afraid of losing the child this night; there had been no sign of him at all.  Elrond had felt as if his heart would break if he lost this precious little Light.  When he seen the boy in Mithrandir's arms he nearly cried with joy … but wait, he **did** cry.  Elrond lifted a hand to touch his own cheek, where Kalan had wiped away his tears.  'Amin ai'galad, my heart would break if ever you were to be hurt, if you were to leave me, melamin,' Elrond thought as he caressed Kalan's midnight hair.  His hand stopped suddenly, realizing what he had thought.  'My love?' he looked down at the sleeping beautiful Light before him.  'Do I love him?'

            Kalan suddenly shifted, turning onto his side.  He mumbled something in his sleep.  If not for the keen hearing of elves, Elrond would never have heard it. 

            "Elrond, diola lle, amin mela lle,"2 he whispered.  Elrond started, Kalan had said it; had said that he loved him.  Such pure trust and love coming from one so small, Elrond smiled and stroked his head.  Kalan smiled and leaned into the touch, longing for the touch of one who loved him, like a father, almost.  "Elrond…" Kalan was still talking in his sleep, and was grasping at the blankets like he was trying to find something.  Elrond hesitated.  How could he leave?  Finally, he gave into his heart and lay down beside the boy, still stroking his hair.  Kalan scooted over to him, until he was wrapped in his arms.  

            Elrond sighed, content, just holding the little one who had brought light and love back to his life.  He felt Kalan relax against him and sigh.  Elrond gently, tenderly kissed the top of the dark head.  He felt the young one's mind quiet as Kalan drifted off into a deep sleep.  Elrond did so as well, not even caring that he was still in his elaborate robes.  All that mattered to the elf lord was that his _ai'galad_ was returned to him unharmed.  

            Elrond remained there the rest of the night, holding the little one close, reassuring himself of his presence.

(End flashback)

*

            The two of them returned to the present, and Kalan had a few tears running down his cheeks, but these were not tears of despair, but of happy remembrance.  Gandalf gently wiped them away with his hand and smiled down at the broken half-dragon.  

            "You see?  There is always the memory of a happier time that can bring light back to the soul," he leaned over and kissed the top of Kalan's head.  "Never forget that, Gildae, he still thinks of you, even now.  He still loves you and that will never change.  Remember his love, and let that strengthen you," he patted Kalan's shoulder and pulled the covers up around his slim shoulders.  

            The wizard passed a hand over Kalan's eyes, letting a bit of his power send the young one to sleep.  As Kalan drifted off, the wizard sat back, watching and waiting.  He had used his powers to help heal the boy as much as he could, but most of the healing would have to come from within and from his soul mate.  Gandalf sighed, hoping and praying for the best, knowing that Kalan, above all, did not deserve this pain.

            Gandalf watched over the boy until Legolas returned.  The elf returned to his earlier position, holding the half-dragon against his body.  Gandalf stood and bid the elf farewell, for he was leaving with Pippin for Gondor.  He hoped all would go better in the morning.

**This was my favorite part to write, I hope you all enjoyed it as well!  REVIEW ME!!!**

  


* * *

1 Oh, my little light

2 Elrond, thank you, I love you


	8. Awakening: Reflections

Chapter 8

Awakening: Reflections 

Through the night, Kalan only stirred three times, shuddering and crying out in pain and protest. Heart wrenching pleas for the demons of his torture to stop, escaped his lips. Each time Legolas was there, soothing Kalan, bringing him out of the darkness with soft elven words and gentle, kind touches. Aragorn came in at intervals and they roused Kalan only enough to have him drink the herbal concoction of the Ranger. It was evening of the next day when Aragorn appeared again.

"It is time to move on, can he ride?" he asked.

"Perhaps, if the need is great. Where do we head?" Legolas asked. Aragorn told the story of Pippin and the palantir, and how Gandalf saved him. The hobbit was taken with the wizard to Gondor.

"The rest of us are going back to Edoras, from there, we shall see. But I wish for Kalan to return to Rivendell as soon as possible," he said, gravely. Legolas read *that* look and nodded. He looked down at Kalan's sleeping face and brushed the dark hair out of his closed eyes, noticing as he did so that the fever had gone down dramatically.

"Cuiv-de, Gildae. Elena sila tiri ar'run lindu ele lle,"[1] he whispered softly into Kalan's ear. The dragonling stirred and blinked his eyes open. He focused on the fair elf's face above him. At first he looked frightened and confused, but then with a quiet smile for Legolas, he relaxed slightly. "Quel undome, mellonamin."[2] Kalan nodded but did not respond. Kalan's eyes roamed the tent, almost fearfully. 'He still expects to see the orcs,' thought the elf, sadly. Kalan saw Aragorn, standing to one side and the man came over to him. 

"Kalan, how do you feel?" he asked, kneeling down beside him. Kalan was silent for a time, then in a halting voice, he answered.

"I am not in – so much pain – anymore," he said, Aragorn nodded.

"That is good, do you think you can ride?" Kalan nodded, "Also good, but first you should eat and drink," he stood, poured another mug of his tea and brought it to Kalan. Legolas helped the dragonling to sit up, but Kalan still leaned against him, the elf did not mind. Aragorn made as if to feed the drink to him, but Kalan raised a slightly shaking hand and stopped him. He took the cup from the Ranger and brought it slowly to his own lips. Legolas supported his arms but he drank the tea himself.

After he had finished, Aragorn took back the cup from him, nodding. He next took some elven 'lembas' from his pouch and handed it to Kalan. He ate slowly and shakily, but he was determined to do it himself. He finished off the wafers and he looked a bit stronger. Kalan looked up at Aragorn and a flicker of the old strength flashed in his silver eyes. But it faded quickly, like a candle, sputtering out and Kalan slumped against Legolas.

"I am not an invalid, Aragorn, and I do not wish to be treated as such," Kalan said in a soft voice, but stronger than before. Aragorn smiled warmly and nodded.

"I know that, Kalan, I am just trying to help you," he said. Kalan closed his eyes, weariness overtaking him once more. Legolas laid a hand on his bare shoulder, gently rubbing down his arm. The action was meant to soothe, but Kalan suddenly became very aware of his naked body pressed back against the elf. The hand on his arm made him tense, and his tortured mind began to twist the elf's soft touches, making it feel more like grasping claws. Once more he was in the dungeons of Orthanc, the orcs surrounded him, over him, into him…

"Stop! No!" he jerked away from Legolas, startling both man and elf, but before he could run away, Aragorn had him in his arms, holding him tightly. Kalan struggled against the restraining arms, but Aragorn did not release him.

"Hush, Kalan! We will not hurt you!" he said to the almost hysterical half-dragon. He felt Kalan stiffen and his struggled ceased. Aragorn did not release him, "Kalan?" The youth went limp suddenly, his body shuddering.

"Amin hiraetha, amin…" his voice broke. Aragorn held him, saying nothing just gently rubbing Kalan's back, trying to soothe him once more. Aragorn caught the elf's gaze as Legolas watched him hold Kalan. Kalan's reaction to his touch had startled and frightened him, now his eyes held sadness and helplessness. Aragorn knew this was hard on the young elf prince; elves expressed their feelings through touch more than spoken word. It was new to Legolas to see his touch bring so much anguish to one that he cared for, even if it was involuntary. 

Finally, Kalan quieted and he pushed against Aragorn weakly and he released him. He kept a hold on Kalan's shoulders watching him intensely, but the youth would not meet his gaze. "Kalan?" He raised the dark head with a finger under his chin. "Kalan, it is not your fault. *They* did this to you; they are the only ones to blame. And we will make them pay, Kalan, I swear to you," he said, vehemently. Kalan said naught, but his silver eyes told Aragorn everything he needed to know. Pain, fear, guilt, sorrow but under it all was a small flame, the old Kalan. Pride, loyalty, and now a small childlike, hesitant trust. Aragorn nodded. "Now, haw about we get some clothes on you, hm?" and he stood. "You can use one of my tunics, I shortened to sleeves, and I also have an extra cloak for you. But what to put on the bottom?" he shrugged. Legolas spoke up.

"I have an extra pair of leggings, you and I are near to the same size," he offered, and Aragorn nodded.

"I think that I could purloin some boots Rohan's supplies. I don't think Theoden would mind too much," he said with a small twinkle in his eyes. He handed Kalan the tunic, black with a thick weave, but lightweight. Aragorn taken thread and hemmed the sleeves about two inches. Kalan stiffly pulled it on over his head. 

Legolas took this moment to step outside and retrieve his pack and the leggings. A familiar voice met him.

"Hail! Legolas!" The elf turned and smiled to the dwarf who came to greet him. 

"Mae govannen,[3] Gimli, how art thou?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected, elf," came the answer then his face darkened. "How is Kalan?" he asked in a controlled voice. Legolas frowned. 

"Perhaps your own answer applies to him as well. His fever has all but left him, but it is not the fever that worries me," his eyes flashed with anger. "He flinches from our touch as if we would harm him, and he is yet plagued by the orcs in his dreams, nay! Even awake he sees them, feels them," his eyes lowered, but not before Gimli saw the pained look of helplessness on his face. He placed a comforting hand on the elf's arm

"It is not from our touch that he shies away, but from the memory of the pain he suffered at the hands of the orcs. Just give him some time, Legolas, time heals all wounds," he said kindly, but Legolas shook his head.

"Nay, time will not heal this wound. On the outside, the cuts will close, but inside they will fester and poison him. He now fears that everyone will hurt him, he has forgotten the joy and love in life. Nor will he open up to us and share his pain," he paused. "No, Gimli, no amount of time will heal him. Time, like elves, means nothing to him for he can live till the end of the world. He needs healing that we cannot give him here. Aragorn hopes to send him to Rivendell as soon as he is strong enough. Lord Elrond is a great healer and has helped Kalan before. I only hope that this last torture did not break him beyond repair," and with that he took his pack and re-entered the tent. 

Gimli stood there for a time, an unreadable expression on his face. He spoke in a low voice to no one but himself.

"It seems the Fates are determined to keep him in pain and alone. Well, no more, not with Gimli son of Gloim by his side," he looked up to the sky. "If there is any good and benevolent god or Valar listening, I plead to you on his behalf. Spare him this torture or if you will not, grant my comrades and I the power to protect him."

 [1] Wake up, Gildae. The stars are bright and they sing to see thee.

[2] Good evening, my friend

[3] Well met


	9. Horse Sense: New Arrivals

Chapter 9

Horse Sense: New Arrivals 

Through the combined efforts of Legolas and Aragorn, they had managed to get Kalan dressed and on his feet.

"We will ride to Edoras and from there, decide where we shall go," said Aragorn. Legolas stood beside Kalan, keeping a trained eye on him, watching for any signs of strain or faintness; ready to catch him if he should fall. He did not touch Kalan, though he desperately wanted to support him because he looked so weak, but he feared that he would do more harm than good.

Kalan nodded his assent and Aragorn left, opening the tent flap. Kalan stiffened. Through the flap he caught a glimpse of the outside, and the many people out there. Legolas noticed his discomfort.

"Kalan, what is it?" he asked, and tentatively rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. He stifled a sigh of relief when Kalan did not flinch. 

"I can't go out there, Legolas, I can't face all those people," he whispered, the fear plain in his voice. Legolas squeezed his shoulder, reassuringly. 

"Well, you certainly can't stay in here for the rest of your days," he replied lightly, but frowned when he didn't even get a smile. "Umma dele, Gildae. I will be right beside you," he whispered into his ear. Kalan swallowed audible and nodded. He allowed the elf to lead him out of the tent. Legolas kept an arm around Kalan's shoulders and felt him tense even more. He risked a glance at Kalan's face, but was not at all happy with what he saw there. His silver eyes, were reflective, like mirrors and Legolas could read nothing in them, but his body betrayed his fear. 'He's recessing into himself, that's not good,' he thought.

"Are you finished inside, Master Legolas?" asked one of the Rohan soldiers.

"Yes, we are, sorry for the delay," the elf apologized, nodding to the man. He bowed.

"No trouble, sir, the king wanted to make sure the youngster was well before we took his tent down," he said. Legolas nodded and the soldier with some of his fellows moved to break down the tent. Legolas led Kalan away, slowly, careful not to let him trip.

"The king knows?" a small voice asked and the elf looked down at Kalan. His features were carefully neutral but his mirrors were cracking.

"He only knows that you were tortured by the orcs, not everything. He was very concerned for you, as were we all," he added this part as an afterthought, but with emotion. Ahead waited Aragorn, Gimli and Merry. Upon a tall steed sat King Theoden of Rohan. Aragorn smiled softly at their approach. Merry grinned and started to run to Kalan, but Gimli's hand stayed him. Confused, the hobbit looked back at the dwarf. 

"You'll startle him, don't be overeager, he's already had enough excitement," whispered Gimli, Merry nodded in understanding. Legolas and Kalan stopped before the group and the king smiled down at them kindly.

"It is good to see you up and about, Kalan Sadaya. I am Theoden, King of Rohan," he said. Kalan looked up at the old man.

"I thank you for your kindness and for the use of your tent," said Kalan in a calm voice. The king nodded.

"Are we ready to ride?" he asked Aragorn. The younger man looked at Kalan who nodded slightly.

"Yes we are," he answered. "Would you have a spare horse for Kalan?" he asked. The king nodded and motioned to one of his men, who brought forth a good-looking horse. 

"He is a good steed, strong hearted and would be used if only he would let someone ride him," said the king. The stallion's coat was a dark silver-gray, his mane and tale black. Upon nearing Kalan, it broke out of the grasp of the soldier who led it and trotted over to the dragonling. 

Kalan looked deeply into the horse's eyes and brought a hand up to rest on the strong neck. The horse bent its head and pressed it forehead against Kalan's. Both half-dragon and horse closed their eyes and for a long while no one spoke. Finally, the pair opened their eyes. The beast gently nudged Kalan's chest with his nose and 'wuffed' against him.

"Diola lle, mellonamin, Astalsul,"[1] whispered Kalan. With Legolas's help he mounted. Kalan stifled a groan of pain, for he was still sore and the beast was wide. The horse looked back at his new burden and one could almost say there was concern in the deep eyes, maybe even love. Kalan leaned down, pressing his chest against the horse's neck and softly stroked the fur. "Quel amin,"[2] he said.

"Are you settled?" asked the elf. Kalan straightened, as much as he could and nodded. Legolas patted his leg, lightly and then went to his own steed. He mounted and then assisted Gimli up behind him. Aragorn mounted with Merry in front of him. Theoden looked around, and then back at his army, Eómar and his riders, among them. He raised his arm and gave a shout. He kicked his horse into motion. All did likewise except Kalan and Legolas who just whispered something to their mounts in elvish. And with that they were off.

*

The company rode swiftly through the night, led by Theoden and Aragorn. Behind them came Legolas with Gimli and Kalan. The dragonling had closed his eyes; pain and weariness creased his brow. He hands were limp on the reins, but he trusted his steed. Legolas rode close beside him, ready to catch him if should he slip from the saddle

"Kalan, are you well?" he asked, his voice carried softly over the thundering hooves. The silver eyes opened and gazed at the elf. Legolas recognized the cloudy look and knew the fever was returning.

"Well enough, Legolas," came the answer.

"What did you and your new friend discuss before?" asked the elf, motioning to Kalan's steed.

"His name is Astalsul, 'Valiant Wind'. And that he felt my pain and wished to help me. His little sister was also hurt by the orcs and then they killed her. He wants to protect me and carry me across the land," he said with a small smile. Astalsul looked back at him and Kalan stroked his neck.

"Well, that adds him to our numbers," said Gimli and Kalan looked at him.

"What do you mean?" The dwarf shrugged

"The four of us, Aragorn, Merry, Legolas and I wish to help and protect you as well and don't even think of trying to talk us out of it, young dragonling," he said gruffly when Kalan opened his mouth to protest. "Our minds are made up. Its what friends do, you know: help each other," he said matter-of-factly. Kalan gave him a weary smile in return then turned away.

A rider came up to the king in great haste. "My lord, there are horse men behind us and they are riding hard," he said. Theoden called for a halt and the Riders turned, readying their spears. The rumble of hooves neared and dark shapes could be made out in the dark. There was no telling of their numbers but they seemed no more than their own.

"Halt! Who rides in Rohan?" called Eómar and the riders stopped. One dismounted and approached with a hand held into the air, a sign of peace.

"Halbarad Dunadan, Ranger of the north. I am searching for one Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the newcomer answered. Aragorn let out a cry of joy and leapt off his horse. He ran to greet the man.

"You have found him! Halbarad, it is good to see you, yet how did you know where I was?" he asked as they embraced. The Riders of the King relaxed.

"A message came, through Rivendell," answered the named Halbarad. "I have thirty others with me along with the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir." Two other riders came forward, their features more fair them the rest and their dark hair was braided back to reveal pointed ears. Each clasped arms with Aragorn, smiling.

"It is good to see you, foster brother," said the one on the right.

"And I you, both," answered the man. "But we are in haste, come, we shall ride together now." He ran back to his horse and Halbarad to his. Then the Company, now doubled, continued their journey.

 [1] Thank you, my friend, Astalsul.

[2] I'm well.


	10. The Son's of Elrond

Chapter 10

The Son's of Elrond 

Along the way, the twins rode beside Aragorn, with Halbarad. They spoke to him in elvish, speaking a message from their father: 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.' At this Aragorn's face darkened, but he nodded.

"For another reason, also, we have come. Our father has felt the one, Gildae's pain, even so far away in Imladris. Since he could not come himself, he sent us and bid us to give him what little healing and comfort we can. Where is he?" asked Elrohir. Aragorn nodded behind him to where Kalan rode in painful silence, his hood drawn low over his face. Even as they watched, he began to slip from the saddle. Astalsul neighed softly in warning and Legolas, who rode beside them, swiftly pushed Kalan back upright. Kalan's head jerked up and Legolas spoke to him softly in elvish. All Kalan did was nod.

Elladan turned back to the Ranger beside him, anxiety written all over his fair face. "Is it as bad as we feared?" he asked.

"Probably worse," answered Aragorn and he told the brothers of what Kalan had endured. Their faces showed horror, then anger, then remorse.

"It *is* worse than we feared," said Elrohir, glancing back at Kalan then returned to Aragorn. "We shall reach Edoras tonight. My brother and I shall go to Kalan Gildae. We are not as great as our father in healing and power, but perhaps he will talk to us," he said, his twin nodded in agreement. They said farewell to Aragorn and dropped back to Kalan. Elrohir went to his right and Elladan to the left. He spoke softly to Legolas who nodded and moved away, letting the elder elf take his place beside Kalan.

Astalsul eyed the two newcomers warily and snapped at them if they came too close, trying to protect his burden. Kalan laid a slightly shaking hand on the steed's neck and he quieted.

"Toror' e' inn[1], thou hath been hurt grievously," said Elladan. Kalan turned his gaze to the elf, he looked weak, pained and grieved. For the first time, Kalan looked his true age. Elladan met his brother's gaze over the half-dragon's head, both were reminded of their mother and how she left for the Undying Lands after being tormented by the orcs. So similar to how Kalan was now, both of them feared that Kalan would be the same, however, only elves have even been allowed into Valinor. There would be nowhere for Kalan to run to, and he could fade away into nothing. The twins broke eye contact when Kalan spoke.

"What news from thy father?" he asked in the same tongue.

"He wished to be here with you, it pains him that he cannot," Elladan replied. "And he says that you must come back to him in one piece," he added with a small laugh. Kalan gave a wan smile, but turned away. Elrohir reached out and took Kalan's hand, but the younger jerked his hand away as if he'd been burned. Elrohir was shocked and Kalan slumped in his saddle.

"I am sorry, Elrohir, it is yet hard for me not to feel the orc's claws on me. I meant no offense," said Kalan weakly, not meeting either of their eyes.

"There was none taken, Gildae, we understand," reassured Elrohir. The elf delved into his saddlebag and brought out a small flask. He handed it over to Kalan. "Drink a little of this. It is _miruvor_, and it will help you regain some strength," Kalan did as he was told and took two sips of the elven cordial. Warmth ran through his body and a bit of strength returned. He nodded thanks and handed the flask back to Elrohir. The three of them rode the rest of the way in silence.

*

Later that night, the Riders reached Edoras. The hill-top capital of Rohan and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Aragorn helped Merry to the ground; the poor hobbit was all but asleep. Gimli hopped off the horse followed by Legolas. The son's of Elrond dismounted and Elladan moved to help Kalan.

The dragonling had already managed to get a leg over the saddle by himself. But then his strength failed him before he could touch the ground. Elladan caught him in his arms before he could fall. Kalan was shaking with weariness and strain. The elf set him upon his own feet, but wrapped an arm around Kalan's waist, holding him up. Astalsul gently nudged him with his nose and 'wuffed' against his neck in affection. Kalan laid a hand upon the horse's neck.

"Diolla lle, mellonamin,"[2] he said. "Now you must get some rest yourself," he added. The horse nudged him once more before he allowed himself to be led away by a soldier. Elrohir touched Kalan's arm, tentatively. Kalan flinched slightly but did not pull away, perhaps because he was too weary. Aragorn approached them.

"Kalan?" he asked. The youth raised his head and opened his eyes. 'Damn!' cursed Aragorn in his mind. Kalan had the same look in his eyes as he did when he Legolas had found in Orthanc. Tortured, pained, lost and without hope. The Ranger turned to Elladan. "I trust you know best how to help him," he said in a low voice.

"Nay, not the best, but enough to help, even a little bit," answered the elf. "Is there a room where we can go?" Aragorn nodded and called to a nearby soldier.

"Please lead them to one of the guest rooms inside," then turned back to the elves. "I will be taking council with Theoden and Eómar if you should need me," then nodded. The twins followed the Rohan soldier into the keep, Elladan gently leading the almost catatonic half-dragon. Aragorn watched them go with a sad look on his weathered face. There was a tug on the hem of his tunic and he looked down into Merry's worried and sleepy eyes.

"Aragorn, will Kalan be alright?" asked the hobbit. Aragorn sighed.

"I do not know, Merry. I hope so, but I fear that he has been hurt worse than he will allow us to see," answered the man. Then he turned and, with Theoden and Eómar, entered into the Golden Hall.

**Thank you Siah for you wonderful review, I appreciate the comments. I am hoping to post the next chapter next week. Check back for the next intalment of Shadowed Past: Fall From Grace – "The Comfort of Brothers"**

 [1]Brother in Heart – term of endearment used by the twins with Kalan

[2] Thank you, my friend


	11. Comfort of Brothers

Chapter 11

Comfort of Brothers 

            Upon entering the room, Elrohir dismissed the soldier and closed the door.  His brother sat Kalan down on a rather large bed.  The youngster (compared to them, at least) barely registered the change.  Elrohir lit a few candles then joined his brother beside Kalan.  He deftly undid Kalan's cloak and laid it to one side.  For a long while the three of them sat in silence, Kalan's eyes closed and head down, and elf on either side.

            Elladan reached out and touched Kalan's thigh.  The youth jerked and tried to get away, but a second hand on his shoulder restrained him.  Elladan brushed through the ebony hair and spoke in soft, flowing elvish.

            "Does it hurt so much that you cannot even bear **our** touch.  We would never hurt you, Gildae," he said.  Kalan took a shaky breath.

            "The pain of the orcs was long and without end.  Their foul, painful touch has been engraved on my soul, my mind.  I cannot escape them," he whispered.  Elladan gently massaged the back of Kalan's neck; the muscles were strained and taut.  He nodded, silently urging him to continue.  "I cannot explain to you how – what – I felt, there are no words to describe the pain.  Not just in how they violated my body, but…" his voice broke off and a shudder ran through him.  "I am not worthy of your friendship, let alone your love," he added.

            "Nay, Gildae!" cried Elrohir.  "Nothing can sever the bonds we three have made.  Not orcs, not even the Dark Lord himself," he said softly.  Kalan turned his silver gaze to the younger twin.

            "But I broke, Elrohir.  I broke down and cried, even as they took me.  I begged and pleaded, never have I done so to anyone.  They accomplished at least part of what they wanted," his voice became bitter.  "They broke my spirit.  I am not worthy of the friendship of elves," his eyes lowered, but Elladan was not about to give up.

            "Gildae, brother in heart, no one, not even an elf, could have survived what you went through.  We would have given up our lives, casting our spirits out to Mandos.  You escaped with your life, and that is a feat in itself," he reached out and raised Kalan's head to look at him.  "Gildae, souls can be repaired with the love of others and time, your soul will become whole again, but only if you allow us to help," he said, staring into the silver eyes of his 'little brother', searching for any sign of hope.  And he found it, but it was dim and hidden, locked behind painful memories, hate, fear and doubt.  But it was hope nonetheless.  "Gildae, will you allow us to comfort you while our company rests here?" the elf asked?  Kalan's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to make a stuttering protest.  Elrohir placed two fingers over his lips, shushing him.  The elf smiled kindly.

            "Gildae, we wont do anything that would hurt you.  If it is only to lay here with you so you do not have to be alone in the dark, then we will.  But we will not leave you alone," he said sternly and moved his hand to cup Kalan's cheek.  Kalan closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting touch, one that reminded him of the happier times of his childhood.  Elrohir smiled and ran the pad of his thumb across the smooth skin, noting the traces of old tears.  Kalan opened his eyes and nodded, once.

            Elrohir wrapped his arms around Kalan's chest and slowly pulled him back onto the bed, moving the two of them back to the pillows.  Elladan followed and bent over Kalan's slightly shaking form.  His quick fingers swiftly unlaced Kalan's borrowed tunic and began to lift it over his head.  Kalan's hand stopped him and the elf met his gaze.  Reading the fear and apprehension on the young face, he smiled and stroked the dark hair.

            "It's alright, Gildae, we wont do anything you do not want.  But you cannot sleep in your only good tunic," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Kalan's forehead.  "Relax," and he removed the shirt.

            Kalan rested his head against Elladan's shoulder and the elf enfolded him in his arms.  He laid both of them down, never letting Kalan go.  He shifted slightly, tucking the dark head under his chin, both of them lying on their sides, facing each other.  His twin lay down behind Kalan, spooning his larger body around the smaller one.  He draped an arm over Kalan, letting his hand rest on his brother's waist.  Elladan held Kalan tightly, gently tracing random patterns across his back.

            In a short time, the body between the elf twins relaxed and Kalan's breathing slowed and evened out.  Elladan risked a glance down at his face and found his young 'brother' deep in a dreamless sleep.  Settling back onto the bed, he caught his brother's eye.  Elrohir's 'voice' came into his mind.

            ~ You know this only a temporary solution, brother.  This will not heal the hurt that has been done to him. ~  Elladan's expression was sad.

            ~ No, it will not, brother.  We will leave the healing of his heart up to father when the time comes.  I just hope that he will not be like our mother.  Until then, if he wishes it, we will comfort him this night, and any other, giving him some relief. ~ he answered.  Elrohir nodded and the twins settled into the bad, letting what little power they had envelop the young half-dragon in his sleep.  Their love for the youngster radiated off them, soothing his pain and blocking the horrible dreams and memories.

** REVIEW!!! Hope you are all enjoying this, no there is no **real** slash with the twins, the slashy stuff is later.  They are just a bit more than brothers.  Check back for the next chappie: "From Helms Deep: the Rider's Part".**


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